


Pure

by DaisytheDoodleDog



Series: Destiel Collection [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Wings, Castiel/Dean Winchester in Purgatory, Destiel - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Purgatory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-13 06:22:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18935212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisytheDoodleDog/pseuds/DaisytheDoodleDog
Summary: Dean has been hunting for the only light in all of purgatory, for months. Cas has been running from his past, hoping to keep the hunter safe. Of course they would happen to meet on the river bank. Of course vampires had to attack from every angle. Of course Cas's wings lit up like stars in the eternal night. But purgatory was pure. Perhaps that's why Dean was forced to leave it behind. A purgatory fanfic, asking the real questions: what really happened in Purgatory? Comments and requests please! Enjoy!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to a little short story I put together because I was in need of Destiel. Reviews please and enjoy!
> 
> Edited by the wonderful ShortAndSnarky on ff.net! Go checkout their stories!

 

**_Part One_ **

Dean hadn’t felt the warm embrace of a summer breeze, the scruffiness of a wool blanket, or tasted a cup of coffee in a long-ass time. It’s always cold here. Always dark, the sun barely reaching the tips of treetops before sinking away in defeat to the night of screeching monsters and starless sky. When it was bright enough for Dean to catch a glance of a monster stalking from afar, it poured. The sky would open with a trembling roar and let out a cry in the absence of sanity and morals, washing away any hopes of warmth, back to the surface of this suffocating realm.  
  
Yet through it all, it was pure.                                                                                                                                                                                                           

Right and wrong were so defined, life and death such a simple process that the sight of rushing blood wasn’t a cause for alarm. A monster would shriek in pain before crumbling to the ground, and it wouldn’t faze anyone. Life carried on, monsters hunting the hunter, the hunter taking down his prey, in an endless cycle. For the first time in Dean’s life, it was comforting.  
  
Dean still hunted. Not for the raging vampires or howling werewolves, and certainly not the ravenous ghouls that salivated at the sight of a human. He hunted through the endless rows of trees for the only warmth in the realm. Cas, the only light in Dean’s life, despite what Cas had done to his family, to his blood.

  
Dean knew he was out there. Somewhere. Benny had grown restless with the search, Dean’s hunt of drastic measures to find the angel, lasting over five months. It was the most difficult time of his life, being separated from his guardian angel, calling out to Cas in the suffocating night, praying for him, whispering tearful sorry’s and trying to crack a joke in the hope the angel would laugh in return. Somewhere out there, an angel, the light of the realm, smiled through a patchy beard at the hunter’s attempt to take some of the dreariness away from an empty sky. Castiel wanted to find him too. He wanted to see Dean’s smile and the crinkle of Dean’s eyes and wrap his wings around Dean as a gesture of solace. Cas wanted to apologize, even if it ended as a futile attempt to make amends. He knew that couldn’t happen.  
  
As an angel, Castiel never felt hot nor cold. He never felt what a warm summer sun did to the skin or how a bitter winter could ripple through him and make his teeth chatter. He never had to change the temperature of his vessel, since his power naturally did that for him. But there was a warmth missing. Maybe it was feeling so lost in the woods or loose ends that were never tied off. The sudden unstableness frightened him. So he ran like the coward he so fanatically believed that he was. He left Dean. Cas hated himself for it. But still, Cas ran.

  
He ran from the bounty of his head. Ran from the engulfing night that tried to drown him in its corruption. He ran until he found a place to hide. And when he did, the angel stayed crouched in his den, stifling his breath as rampaging leviathans tore up the forest floor in search for the notorious celestial being, teeth bared and whooping shrieks of joy when they caught a scent.  
  
It was safe in the den. It wasn’t much bigger than two people, but it sat way up on a hill of solid rock, crooks and crannies laying among the boulders, too small to fit most of the creatures that dwelled here. Castiel found one hole that fit him and allowed him to spread his massive wings, giving them a break from the power that emitted off them, attracting the demented beasts with its beacon of light in the eternal night. But even as days turned to weeks and time was lost with the forever dying sun, Castiel was lonely. The evening prayers from Dean, once being a symbol of hope, dwindled into long, trembling pleas from a broken man. Every night, when the same desperate prayers replayed in Castiel’s head, a single tear ran down his dirt-smudged cheek.  
  
Dean would try to find a place, a safe haven up in a large tree to catch a brief minute of sleep and to close his eyes, picturing a pair of blazing blue that both haunted and caressed his dreams. And every night he prayed. Never the same message, but always the same point.  
  
_Hey Cas. I know, somewhere you’re out there. I’m searching for you. I pray to you and I still haven’t found you. Come on buddy, I know you can hear this. Just please, please find me. I can get us home... I just want to go home... with you. I miss you, Cas_ .  
  
Then one day, upon some mistaken miracle, a chance that fate almost overlooked, just over the tangled roots and muddy cliff edges of a peaceful stream, was the reflection of a figure Dean once knew. And over the rocky edge, he threw himself down and tumbled to the bank wearing the first weary smile in this godforsaken place. Cas barely had time to react before the hunter's heavy arms clasp him in a jubilant hug. Dean clung to him as a shy kid clung to their mothers, yet the feeling of ecstasy diminished as the warmth he had spent months dreaming about was absent from the embrace.  


  
...

  


Although Cas was hesitant, he brought Dean and the sarcastic vampire to his hole.

While it was cold and drafty, offered protection from monsters and, at the very least, provided the company Cas so longed to have.

It was a two-day hike to Cas’s little makeshift home as the monsters followed their muddy footprints and the thick smell of their boiling blood. There, they would be safe. _Dean will be safe._ That was all Castiel cared about. Even though the trio kept their heads down and their blades swinging freely, the monsters still charged, a chorus of snarls and hisses through sadistic smirks with open fangs.

The first night was the coldest one yet. The sky, even in the light of day, would have looked ominous as it towered over the three, but in its night, clouds with devious plans loomed over them to release thick flakes of snow in blizzard-like winds. By morning, the snow would be gone and the grounds of the forest would reset and the day would begin like a record. Spinning around and around.

They settled near the base of a large oak, their eyes squinted at the depths of the woods that revealed nothing from its shadows. Benny was grumbling about how they needed to keep moving, his eyes glancing around and nostrils flared as if trying to catch the scent of the vampire nest that lingered in the area. The vampire seemed to have always held a side glance at the reunited pair, however the rest of his face was devoid of any true expression.

As much as the angel didn’t want much to do with the vampire, Cas didn’t hesitate to agree. _Dean is not safe here. Most certainly not with him._  Castiel settled down, his back pressed against the rough bark, torn up with scratch marks and feet digging at the frozen wasteland. Dean nearly buckled under his own weight, trying to keep himself steady. He slid down next to Castiel, leaning his right side into Cas’s shoulder.

“I’ll watch over you, Dean. You should sleep.”

“Dude. Creepy.” Dean replied, his voice rich with his usual snark. Truth be told, Dean was grateful for the angel on his shoulder. It had been a liberating sense of relief to see the angel alive in the little slice of hell. Around them, the wind whooped and whistled in its endless amusement of its victims with chattering teeth and frozen blood.

Dean didn’t say much before slipping away into an uneasy sleep, riddled with nightmares and cold that seeped into his mind. Dean grunted and thrashed in his sleep, throwing his body off of Cas, and onto the ground, twigs stabbing his skin and tiny pebbles digging into the crooks of his clothes. He shook violently, the wind only shoving harder, laughing at the poor soul. Cas tried to remain rigid, staring away from the man who would throw a dangerous fit if the angel tried to comfort him. It was almost like Dean craved pain. But Cas couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just sit idly and watch the hunter he’d come to care about be in so much pain. Cas sat up straight and pulled off his heavy trench cold. The numbing cold did nothing to his perfectly tan skin, but goosebumps trailed up his arms.

Cas adjusted his position to sit Indian style and pulled Dean from the frozen ground. Dean thrashed in the angel’s grip, still sound asleep. Cas propped the shaking Dean against the tree as best he could, then rested his trench coat around Dean. As soon as the coat touched his shoulders, Dean relaxed, his breath evening, his heart rate slowing. Dean tucked the coat under his chin and grasped it, ensconcing himself the coat. To Cas’s surprise, Dean laid down, head in Cas’s lap. His heart skipped a beat. He gazed down at Dean, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. Protectively, Cas adjusted the coat so it rest more securely on Dean, then folded his hands over Dean’s still body.

The wind tormented them the rest of the night, but it no longer affected Dean, wrapped in the comfort of the trench coat, the angel’s warmth radiating off, releasing a sigh of relief.

In reality, the trench did very little to protect him from the gusts that made it their mission to destroy the hunter in a place where he didn’t belong. The trench coat was merely the illusion hiding the true warmth. The true power. Cas knew what a risk it was to pull this kind of stunt. He was already a beacon, and now this, such a surge of power, that leviathans and God only knew what else would come bounding to the light, their predator instincts kicking into overdrive. But here he was, once again risking it all for his hunter.

The surge of power was enough to wake Benny, who took in the hunter resting in the angel’s lap. _They’re oblivious to the fact they’re meant for each other_ , Benny thought with a smirk. _Once we get out of here, Dean’s never gonna let go of the angel again._ He turned over, facing away from the pair, letting them have their one moment of peace in this godforsaken realm.

**...**

 

When the sun rose weakly over the flat horizon, it was barely a flickering match, shying away behind the thicket. The winds disintegrated into a cool breeze but the temperature remained low. The men had already been moving for a few hours.  

“Just over that next valley,” Cas huffed out, climbing over a rock formation that was splattered with blood. Dean pulled himself up, snagging the next rock and quickly pulled his hand away. A sickly wet feeling slid down his hand as he could see blood dripping down his wrist. Dean looked over the edge to see a fresh puddle of blood.

“Cas… Benny… we’re not alone.” Dean whispered harshly.  Cas’s eyes widened in fear, his gut twisting in pain. He knew. He knew this was a God awful idea, but his heart got in the way again with his monophobia and obsession with protecting the only thing in the world he wanted to hold onto. The one person he was too afraid to touch.

“Dean. We got them vamps from the northwest nest. Twelve o’clock.” Benny hissed, jumping from the rock formations and grasping his blade at the ready, Dean stepping next to him so they stood back to back. Brothers to the end, they decided. A silent agreement that if it weren’t for the circumstances, would never have been.

Cas let his angel blade slip into his grasp as he grunted and cursed angrily at the dull sky. He had a millisecond to look down again before two vampires revealed themselves with spine chilling snarks. One with a healing scar forming over a clouded eye charged directly at Dean, his lips curled upwards showing off his snaggletooth.

“Wow okay. Right past introductions then.” Dean snarked, a smirk growing on his face. Cas twitched at the grin, not recognizing it before. It was a new expression, one that was sinister, like he was enjoying the fight purgatory gave him. Dean snapped into action, launching at the creature, dodging a potentially heavy blow to the head and slicing the head off with one swift movement of his arms. Blood splattered across his cheeks, but he didn’t even wipe it as he stared triumphantly at the head tumbling down the hill, one last groan escaping the frying brain of the vampire.

The second went straight for Castiel, a handmade blade slamming into Cas’s arm. The angel merely looked up and shrugged, before throwing the vamp across the forest floor and into a boulder, knocking it out cold with a little yelp. Benny took the opportunity to slice its head off while several other burst from the brush, furious at the trio.

The cycle of slicing and punching and grunting was monotonous, and while the vamp nest kept coming from every which angle, their heads would all tumble to the ground, blood swirling with the mud. Cas whipped around stabbing a vampire in the neck shoving it to the ground for getting a good grasp on Dean’s leg. While Dean’s legs were covered in blood, Cas was unable to see if it was him or the sea of blood that came from the squealing monsters. His horrible hit feeling did anything but slow.

“Come on! It’s not far.” Cas hollered, escaping breathlessly from the bloodbath. Dean and Benny followed, seeing a break in the rush of vampires. Perhaps they killed the whole nest.

Cas climbed over jagged rocks and through tightly weaved tree roots, sticking above the earth waiting to trip someone up. Dean huffed the occasional curse, causing Cas to glance back worriedly, even offering a hand to the hunter. Of course Dean didn’t accept it, and that didn’t bother Cas, but the weary smile Dean offered in return contorted his stomach. The feeling didn’t dissipate when they reached the clearing to the sloping valley and large rock formation that carved its walls. Cas sighed, allowing his burning lungs to catch a breath. He glanced at Dean who stood next to him, his weight awkwardly being held on his left leg. Just there. The opening could barely be seen among the other hundreds of holes not large enough to hold a grown man, but that one in particular was the safe place.

The den.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**_Part Two_ **   
“I’ll stand watch first.” Benny piped up, snatching his blade and tossing it carelessly in the air.   
  
“No, I got it,” Dean spoke up quickly, trying to evade the slight awkwardness the little cave held with Cas and him. Benny held up his hand and shook his head. Castiel watched their odd kinship with curiosity. Benny motioned to the cave entrance.   
  
“Dean. You were injured in our last scuffle. You hide it well, I’ll give ya that, but you need your strength. And... you and  _ your angel _  need to catch up.” He lifted his chin and studied the tense men. Benny gave Dean a soft smile in acceptance. In acceptance to what, Dean was too oblivious to understand, but Cas caught it in a nervous side glance that tied his stomach into more knots, a dull ache spreading through his chest. “You two ain’t my business. I’ll leave you alone.” Dean huffed irritably, but entered the den and settled down in the far corner, using a lighter to see Cas’s worn-out expression only a foot in front of him. From somewhere on the other side of the north woods, a werewolf uttered its final howl as something much larger took it down. It didn’t startle Dean. Instead, his eyes grew dark and he cleared his throat to make noise in the stale silence that washed over the duo after the holler ended.   
  
“Dean?” Cas finally spoke up, his voice a gravelly tone, but sore.   
  
“What?” He didn’t mean for it to come out sounding harsh, but he was so damn tired and hungry... and aching for a cup of Sam’s brunt coffee. Castiel noticed. Wordlessly, Cas pulled off the trench and offered it to Dean, but the hunter turned it down, unbeknown of the previous night. Cas gingerly slipped it over the hunter's shoulder, the lighter barely holding enough light to see their longing expressions. Dean cleared his throat and focused on the ground, his blood splattered hands rubbing the wound on his calf where a deep slice oozed blood and pus after a near the detrimental fight with a vampire. 

“Dean, I could heal that,” Cas whispered as he reached out towards Dean’s blood-soaked jeans. Dean pulled his leg away sharply, hissing through gritted teeth. Cas narrowed his eyes at such a pertinacious gesture. Cas was never one to understand the complex emotions that seeped off of humans, fueling their maneuvers in life, especially when it came to Dean.

“No, it’s fine. I mean, I’ve had a lot worse.” Cas released a heavy sigh and shook his head in disapproval. 

“I don’t enjoy seeing you in pain, Dean. Please, I just want to do something right.” Dean shook his head and played the “confidence card” with a mettle grin and broadening of his shoulders. But through the light of the single flame, Cas gingerly placed his hand over the wound, ignoring the heartbreaking flinch from Dean, and healed it. As he lifted his hand, blood stained into his already dirty hands. Cas stared at it, drying rapidly into his skin.  _ So ironic _ , he thought, that him healing a wound left him with blood on his hands. Blood that could never be washed off.

“You’re freezing. I’m sorry I can’t do more. My wings won’t fit so well here with you too.” Cas hung his head shamefully and felt the rustle of his wings, itching to break free and embrace Dean. His wings were always attracted to Dean. While even the angels didn’t fully understand it, wings lead emotions of their own. They felt other people’s souls, sensed emotions, and emitted feelings of their own. While Cas mostly had control over their movements, they would often sweep against objects  -mostly brushing against Dean- craving him in something so intense that it became involuntary. Again in the packed den, they moved across the wall, yearning to touch Dean’s hand and feel the light his soul gave off.

“Your wings? I didn’t think they could, you know, be seen.” Dean flushed bright red as a new thought came to mind. “Can... can I see them?”   
  
“Most cannot see them. But they are there.” Cas paused and pondered for a moment. Perhaps Dean could see them. Their souls did have a bond. After stitching Dean back together in hell and Cas using parts of his own soul to salvage and mend Dean’s broken pieces, Dean had some celestial-ness to him. Cas sighed, knowing the den would become very cramped, but he’d do anything for Dean. Just for a few minutes, then he could tuck them away again, their breathtaking beauty hiding from the world again. He wasn’t ashamed of them, he just didn’t like the attention. Their glorious presence made the other angels scowl in jealousy and Gabriel call him “pretty boy”. Cas felt ashamed to have had such prized possessions. An angel more worthy should have wielded them, not Cas.   
  
Reluctantly, he nodded and Dean’s whole face lit up. Cas sat up straight, shoulder blades pulled back and eyes lighting to an electric blue as the area was suddenly taken up by the most brilliant thing Dean had ever seen.

  
He gasped and stared at wingspan that enveloped the room. They were at least ten feet long curled up, but fully stretched, they’d be twice as wide. They were darker than the night, but the rich black that didn’t feel menacing. Each feather was delicately placed, the underside of the feather deep navy blue fading into a dull blue-grey. The closer Dean trailed his eyes to Cas’s shoulder blades, the bluer the underside turned until it was almost as bold as Cas’s eyes. Dean moved the flickering flame and, in the light’s reflections were tiny white specs that shimmered only in the right angle of light. The wings were draped across the ceiling to provide as much space as possible. Dean smiled, holding up the lighter to see a sky of constellations.   
  
“Cas, they’re... they’re awesome… they’re... absolutely breathtaking.” Dean reached out to stroke the feathers, surprised when the wings reacted by stretching the end feathers out to meet his hand halfway. The wing bone slid through his hand and relaxed as Dean rubbed the shorter feathers. Dean gasped at their intricate completion, the feathers feeling like silk, his rough leather jacket, and his wool blanket on his bed at the bunker. “H-how?”

Unknown to Dean, Cas became very flustered by such a sensitive action. The wings acted on their own thoughts, brushing against the cheek and tickling the little stubble that Dean had. Cas tried to shake the feeling, but he felt his face heat up as he stuttered in his reply.

“They’re meant to feel like the best things in the world. A different feeling for each person, I suppose. I’ve never really tested it.” Dean was too flabbergasted to reply, pressing the feathers gently under his hand, Cas’ right wing tingling in response, causing another blush from Cas. Almost no one touched an angel’s wings. They were a sacred thing. Even angels who formed more than kinship with each other rarely touched wings. Cas gulped and opened his mouth to speak, but a shiver crawled up his spine when Dean’s hand hit the little spot on the back of his wing that, in dangerous situations, would trigger a defensive position, but here with Dean, it tickled. Suddenly, without Cas’ doing, his foot began to tap against the ground, moving in time with Dean’s strokes. Dean cocked his head. 

“Ha! The angel has a ticklish spot!’ Dean started scratching Cas’s wing, his foot tapping faster as Dean dug deeper into the spot. Cas started to laugh involuntarily, doubling over.

“Okay stop, stop!” Cas croaked out, trying to regain his stern expression. Dean smirked, ignoring Cas’s words and traveling closer to the shoulder blades in search of another ticklish spot. Cas turned his head, trying to pull his wings away, but they stubbornly stayed in Dean’s palm. Cas sent Dean a death glare as his foot began to incessantly tap again.

“I will smite you.” Dean threw his head back in mirth. It was such an unfamiliar sound to hear down here. It pierced the stale air, surrounding the realm of monsters with a new beacon. It was not something the creatures had heard since arriving in the depths of the infernal pit, save for the sadistic chortles of mouths pooled with blood and vicious cries of glee that alerted their ears and flared their nostrils in a new interest. The sound didn't need to echo through the tree line for the monsters to hear it. The strands and wisps of light that weaved through the forest floor would bring them to the end of their hunts. The den entrance would let the monsters corner the light and crush it between their fingertips. 

Cas begrudgingly let his wings rest again, relaxing as Dean moved to the tips of the feathers again, where the vanes were the silkiest. The barbs spiked outward, stretching the best they could in the confined space, spreading out so gaps could be easily seen between each barb. They rustled and shook slightly, a telltale sign that a happy emotion was pulsing through them. 

  
“They think on their own. Sense the purity of souls. They were always fond of you.” Dean pulled his hand away sharply, nervously moving away from the wings trying to reach him again.   
  
“Cas?”   
  
“Yes, Dean?”   
  
“I’ve missed you.” The lighter fuel faltered and the tiny flame went out. Just as before, the den erupted into darkness. Dean couldn’t see the wings, but he could feel them. He could feel their warmth.   
  
“I know... I’m so sorry, Dean. This is all my fault.” Dean’s lip twitched in anger at the statement. Yeah, Dean had been angry, furious even, with Cas for a long time. But the longer he went without his best friend, the longer his heart ached to be near him. Dean had missed the warmth of Cas’s wings and soul. Here, next to Cas, even in inevitable death, he felt a sense of security wash over him.    
  
“No, no it’s not. We all made mistakes. Mistakes we’re paying for, but we can’t think about that now. By chance and a lot of slaughtering, we found each other, and for now, I’m good with that.” It was then in the darkness that Dean found Cas’s cold and motionless hand. Dean squeezed it. Something stirred in his stomach. No, his whole body. Like he was drowning and all at once. Dean wasn’t an idiot. He knew, but he was smart enough to never acknowledge the feeling in a world so notorious for taking the things he loved. There was no response from the angel, apart from the wings adjusting their tangled position, sweeping across the ground and running down Dean’s shoulder. “Why do they like me?”   
  
“...They are attracted to your soul.” Another long silence and Cas squeezed back in empty an in reassurance he couldn’t promise. A fiery shriek echoed from the forest somewhere away from the den, but no word from Benny meant they were safe... for now. Cas parted his lips, ready to speak again out of shear confidence and a very impatient urge from his wings in their reckless desire. “They also mimic the angels thoughts.” Another long silence of no movement. Dean barely breathed, but his hand never left Cas’s.    
  
Dean Winchester, the man referred as the “unkillable human” down here. The one the monsters whispered about, rumors spreading like wildfire, among nests and even more so, the celestial beacon, wavelengths of pure power coursing through the cyclic woods making the creatures stir uneasily. The man- the hunter, had made a reputation for himself on earth, heaven, hell, and now purgatory. Demons and angels, monster alike, they all formed this mold of what he was and how his actions would both save and risk the entire existence of humans. In the eternal darkness of the den, the bitter cold wind that whistled inside, died out by the new warmth that cozied between the two broken men, finding a piece of who they were, somewhere, not from earth, but from something much more complex.   
  
Dean lurched forward and pressed his dry, rough lips to Cas’s, a deep blush radiating off their cheeks. Cas moved with him, their fingers trailing up to their faces, Dean’s calloused fingers grasping the messy black mop of hair and Cas’s thumb running over the sturdy jawline that released all its tension. When they parted from the long time coming kiss that erupted from temptation, a soft glow illuminated the den. Dean looked up, something of a childish smile growing at the sight of the tiny white dapples of the wings glowing dimly like a sea of stars that hugged them tight.   
  
“An angels wings only produce that particular aura when they have found what they were searching for. All wings have different patterns however.” Cas smiled and leaned his forehead until it touched Dean’s the chilled breaths tickling their noses. Dean smirked, one hand still tangled in Cas’s wild hair and the other pulling the wing closer to him.    
  
“And what were they searching for?” His expression was sly and almost devilish, his flirtatious tone something Cas could pick out immediately, even if most times he heard it was when Dean was flirting with waitresses and bartenders. But that was in the world above. Not here. Not where everything, for just a moment, was pure. Cas grasped the lapels of Dean’s blood soaked jacket with dirt and grime embedded in the fibers. His steady exhale was cut off by another kiss, leaving them fidgeting for more and the wings brightening around them.   
  
“You. Just you.” Dean smiled against Cas’s lips, feeling the warm embrace of the wings wrap around the pair, sheltering them from the blistering cold and hiding them in a world without a heaven or hell. Without an earth or purgatory, and monsters and hatred. It was just simply them.   
  
“Can we test that theory?” Dean asked, a breathy laugh escaping through his nostrils. Cas hummed softly, but he could feel the hunter’s body slow down progressively as physical and mental exhaustion began to take its toll. Cas leaned down, pulling Dean along with him until their bodies were side by side against the rock, the wings cocooning them acting as a blanket, pillow, and privacy for the two, who still were unsure of how to process the last hour let alone the last several months. The speckles dimmed off into just tiny twinkles of  light that made it so Dean could see the reflection of Cas’s eyes, gazing at him with the same fondness as when he was pulled from hell.   
  
It had been a long ass time since Dean felt warmth, and it had been forever since he felt something like this. And for the first time in months, he closed his eyes, his mind succinctly at ease now that he had found his angel. His mind wandered for a while, away to the clouds of his dreams and nightmares, but the nightmares didn’t give him the same cold sweat or panicked breath. They instead slipped by into another distant memory that he’d forget come morning. Cas, while not needing to sleep, was overwhelmingly grateful for his first nights in purgatory that he was not alone. He listened in on Dean’s dream, one that left a footprint of a smile curved on his lips, and smiled at not a dream, but a memory. The dream was a simple thing; it was Dean just running his hands through the silky feathers in pure contentment.   
  
Purgatory is a place for the last, broken, corrupted. A place for the evilest of monsters, abominations so horrid even God feared to look upon their faces. A place for the sinister to pay for their crimes. Despair, pain, and desperation reigned here. But, in a weird way, Dean had never felt more at home. The hunter blood in him pumping through his body had heightened his senses, sharpening his mind. In a place designed to break every creature that entered, Dean felt himself grow stronger, his soft steel being wrought into iron. Here, of all places, Dean felt purified, reborn. Pure. Not a word Dean thought to describe purgatory, but when he would come back to earth, the reality of things, that purity would slip away, it too escaping his tight grasp as he tried to pull it though with him. Maybe it was meant to be let go. Gone. 

Somewhere.   
  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! Comment pleeeeeeeeease! And another thanks to ShortAndSnarky on ff.net for the edits. Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for Reading! I live for comments, so please, please review! I'm also taking requests for new ideas! Let me know! Until next time,
> 
> -Daisy


End file.
